


Only Love

by AGallifreyanTrickster



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Post-Canon, and you know cuddling for warmth, is everyone's jam, my favourite kind of smut, this is porn with feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-16
Updated: 2017-05-30
Packaged: 2018-10-06 07:54:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10329728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AGallifreyanTrickster/pseuds/AGallifreyanTrickster
Summary: Clarke gets in trouble trying to avoid her feelings for Bellamy and long story short, they end up cuddling for warmth.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It's been more than a year! I can't believe it.  
> The thing is... I work more than 48 hours per week in 12 hr shifts so sleeping takes most of my time.  
> I hope you enjoy this new short fic, it'll have no more than 4 chapters.  
> As always, unbeta'd

He’d always been somewhat fascinating, but lately, he’s been stuck in her mind and heart like a drug. At first, in the early days on earth she couldn’t understand him. But now, after all they’ve been through, she knew him like the back of her hand. He was gruff, loyal and worn around the edges.

 

He was also broken. Just like her.

 

She had it clear. He would never love her the way she did, he would never feel this inhumane craving she felt for him. He would never experience what she did when she stood in the middle of Arkadia and watched him work. His broad shoulders, those dark and weathered eyes, the strong jaw, his smile. Oh god. That smile melted her. What did she have to offer? Nothing. But she still craved for him, and she was convinced she deserved him because she’d killed for him, she’d fought for him and he’d done the same for her.

 

It had been two years since _Praimfaya._ Two years they lived in peace, building a home out of some dilapidated shacks they had to improvise with what was left of Arkadia, they refused to give up on their home, the place was like prime real estate, with a river nearby and plenty of animals to hunt.

 

Bellamy and Clarke shared one of the shacks, they had to since everyone seemed to have a couple and they got along so well. Right now it seemed to Clarke that she stuck the knife in her own back, because it was frustrating as hell to live with him, like a couple, but not quite.What surprised her the most was that in all those years never once did Bellamy look at another woman. At first it seemed like a smart move, not getting tangled when his heart was still so raw with the things they’ve done and the things they’ve seen. Two years later Clarke was afraid to ask him why, she wanted to of course but she couldn’t bear the possible answers, any of those answers would snap the small flickering hope right from her fingers.

 

Half of her time she spent watching him, thinking about him, punishing herself for not doing something and the other half she felt jealous. Bellamy had a lot of suitors, plenty of women would walk to him and bat her eyelashes, grounders and Arkadians equally.

 

She wished she could talk to someone about it. Of course, she had Raven, but she could only imagine the face she would make if she started talking about how she wanted to kiss Bellamy, to throw caution out the window and feel his lips against hers, trailing down her neck and lower.

 

She was definitely sex starved.

 

Every night, she would dream of him reciprocating her feelings, touching her in just the right way, licking and biting and kissing until she wasn’t able to talk. She’d wake up, her center throbbing and aching and unable to do anything because _they shared the same room._

And that meant she became more and more tense. More attuned to his presence, his actions, his voice. Every glance he gave her, innocent as it may be sent a bolt straight to her core, setting her skin on fire.

He didn’t even have to be doing anything remotely sexy and it would make her ache. He could be sharpening his knifes, eyes focused on his task and she would watch his hands, his long and tanned fingers flexing and moving skillfully. The movement of his forearms would make her week at the knees, contracting and relaxing with every move he made. She would watch and search for an excuse to stay and get drunk on him until she could stand no more.

 

She’d talk to him normally, she’d tease him after work and with their friends, but the hunger remained. So she would look for something distracting, reading old books and drawing, just to show him her works after they were finished.

 One afternoon, reading and drawing wasn’t enough. She was too tense, she needed something to take her mind off Bellamy and her need for him. Killing something would do the trick. She took her bow and quiver and ran to the woods, just to find him by the camp’s door. When she came close he watched her carefully.

 

“Where are you going?” he asked her.

“I-uh, I saw a boar yesterday, it was a small one.” She said, fixing the quiver on her back. “I’ll be back.”

“Don’t be out too late,” he said with a smile she didn’t return.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Clarke loved the woods, especially when they were covered in snow, bright and calm. Snow also allowed her to track things. After war was no longer an issue, she discovered she was rather good in earth skills, learning to track and hunt from the best, the object of her restlessness, Bellamy.

She’d been following a young boar for about an hour, following it through trees, bushes and even a small creek. She need a wide space to shoot her arrows and get the prize. The boar finally reached a small clearing and started to lick some rocks. Clarke grabbed and arrow, notched it and aimed, breathing deeply.

She let go and the sound she’d grown to love, that high pitched sound that meant she shoot straight filled her ears.

But the boar moved into the woods, missing the arrow.

“What the-?”

Then she saw it, the yellowish glow from the bushes. Clarke swallowed and froze, terrified as the Cougar came from the bushes, smelling the air in search for the boar. She crouched and moved backwards, praying the feline wouldn’t hear her.

SNAP

An insignificant twig broke beneath her foot and the cougar whirled in her direction, roaring.

“Oh, fuck.”

Clarke ran. The cougar chased her as she scrambled across the snow filled terrain. She just needed to reach the creek, it was shallow enough to walk across and she knew the cougar wouldn’t follow her. So she dashed as carefully as she could, reaching the shore, the predator not far behind her.

“Fuck this. Fuck!”

She risked a glance at the creature and it was her doom. Her foot slipped and she fell hard on her knees, against the rocks and the icy and unforgiving water swept her away. Her limbs were cold ice and she was unable to swim. The water was only waist high but the current and temperature were strong. Her skin felt like burning and the air was knocked out of her lungs by the coldness of the water. Her bones ached and she was unable to move.

She panicked and gasped and her hands moved as if they had a mind of their own, reaching for something, for _anything._

And she made it, she crawled her way out of the freezing creek, using think underwater roots as leverage. She flopped onto the snow, the cold but soft embrace of it welcomed by her jaded muscles.

She started trembling and then shaking. She had to get home. She had to find Bellamy.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy has to push his feelings aside in order to save Clarke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh wow, thanks for all the kudos.  
> As always unbeta'd, if you find any mistakes please let me know.

And she made it, she crawled her way out of the freezing creek, using thick underwater roots as leverage. She flopped onto the snow, the cold but soft embrace of it welcomed by her jaded muscles.

 

She started trembling and then shaking. She had to get home. She had to find Bellamy.

 

 

 

A loud knocking – more like banging – on the door woke Bellamy from his nap, he opened it only to find Clarke collapse at his feet, her lips purple and her teeth chattering .

 

“Jesus—” he knelt beside her and pulled her into his arms. She was freezing and wet. Too cold.

 

“It wa-aas a c-coug-gar,” she mumbled, grabbing his jacket, curling into him. “I f-f-fell…”

“Shhh,” he hushed her, trying to keep both on them calm. “Don’t speak, we gotta get you warm.”

He stood up with her on his arms, she was so cold and limp. He struggled to swallow a couple of times, just to keep panic out of his voice. Her pale skin was almost blue, like ice. Fear clutched his chest and he rushed to the fireplace, laying her down carefully and using a metal rod to stir up the fire. He cursed, urging the flames higher. She simply shuddered and curled into a ball.

 

“Fuck, Clarke, don’t do this to me,” he muttered, anxious and preoccupied.

 

Bellamy looked around the room, spotting a thick quilt. He retrieved it quickly and ran back to Clarke.

“C’mon Clarke, let’s get up,” he said to her, putting his hands under her arms and helping her to a seated position. “We have to get rid of those clothes, they’re too wet and cold, you’ll catch death”

 

She mumbled something he didn’t understand and barely moved from her curled position. Bellamy took a deep breath, cursed, and began to undress her, throwing her damp clothes away. He reprimanded himself and averted his eyes as soon as more pale icy skin appeared in front of him. He felt ashamed, having impure thoughts when she was in the verge of dying from hypothermia. She was his friend, for fuck’s sake, his nearly dead friend. Clarke needed him to safe her life, not to take advantage of her.

 

Bellamy pulled off her shirt, her limbs flaccid as a ragdoll. She was beautiful, but he kept his gaze focused on her face. She needed him at his best and he would be it. He would do anything for her. She was wearing one of those sport bra she liked to use when she went out hunting. He touched the worn straps and found them frozen with ice. He winced and swallowed, he had hoped this wasn’t necessary. After some tugging and some avoiding gazes he freed her from the cold and stretchy material.

 

Then came the pants, his trembling fingers hovered over the buttons of her jeans, uncertain. He took another deep breath, steeling himself for his task. He averted his eyes, popped the button and tugged down the garment, underwear included. Hundreds of goosebumps erupted along her legs and she once again curled into a ball, shivering harder than before.

Bellamy refused to look— rather unsuccessfully—at the creamy skin of her thighs and legs and the soft flesh of her breast. He covered her with the quilt, recovering some of his sanity now that she was shielded from his perverted gaze. He used the quilt to wrap her the same way Abby wrapped the newborns at the medbay but she still shivered, the fire doing nothing to ease her condition.

Bellamy knew what he should do, he knew that there was no way she was going to recover as quickly as she needed. He knew but he couldn’t, his body, his mind and all those years of silence would betray him. She didn’t deserved that.

_You dumb fuck, she deserves to live._

He warmed his big hands along the fire and rubbed them up and down her back, creating friction, she leaned against him but the shivering didn’t decrease.

“I-I’m s-s-so c-cold” a whisper came from the human sized bundle of fabric.

Clarke’s tiny body curled into him, seeking some much needed warmth. She looked up and her piercing blue eyes pleaded to him.

“Bellamy, _please_ ,”

That was his undoing.

He opened the quilt and throw it over both of their bodies. Immediately, Clarke wrapped her arms and legs around his body, hugging him with all of her body. Her leg slid between his thighs. She was cold as ice, but Bellamy’s thoughts were on fire.

She had no idea the effect she had on him, the longing, the yearning he felt for her presence; the way his heart crushed every time she smiled at him, the way his blood boiled with wantonness when she walked into their tiny kitchen in nothing but a shirt and panties. Her cold hands slid under his shirt, across his back against his warm skin. She buried her face into his neck and he could feel her lips on his pulse

“T-thank y-y-ou,” she whispered, her breath caressing his skin.

“Of course, no problem.” He said, unable to keep his voice normal.

Her shivering started to subside as his warmth seeped into her body. She pressed herself as close as possible, enjoying the strong feel of his arms around her, delighted by his hands splayed across her back, ignoring the hunger as her breasts pressed against his chest. Her breath keep coming in small shallow bursts but this time it was not because of the cold.

She felt pleased, warm – reluctant to extract herself from his embrace. She pressed closer, hoping to be subtle but wanting to feel all that muscle against her, his thigh against her sex. He did not move. She pushed her luck and ran her hands across the beautiful planes of his back. At that moment, she felt like anything was acceptable under the guise of pursuing warmth. He tensed at her touch and se figured her fingers were not warm enough.

Bellamy swallowed two, three times, willing his groin to behave. If she ever figured out what he was feeling at this moment, their friendship would be ruined.

Clarke was now seeking a different sort of heat, she could feel herself getting wet, her body on fire. Bellamy extracted his hands from her back and reached for her face, tucking wet, blonde strands of hair behind her ears.

Her cheeks flushed, coloring her previously bluish face. Embarrassed, she buried her face against his neck once more, breathing in his masculine scent. He marveled at how delicate she felt in his arms, though he was witness of her strength, taking down men and animals alike. She was a wonderful balance of resistance and beauty, wrapped in an inconspicuous body.

He was hopelessly in love with her.

“Clarke...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find me at my [Tumblr](http://www.bellarkeaddict.tumblr.com)


	3. Chapter 3

Her cheeks flushed, coloring her previously bluish face. Embarrassed, she buried her face against his neck once more, breathing in his masculine scent. He marveled at how delicate she felt in his arms, though he was witness of her strength, taking down men and animals alike. She was a wonderful balance of resistance and beauty, wrapped in an inconspicuous body.

He was hopelessly in love with her.

“Clarke...”

He _had_ to stop this. She was naked in his arms.

And he was in love with her.

“Bellamy, please don’t” She murmured into his chest, hugging him tighter.

“I…” He didn’t know what to say.

“Please don’t go,” she looked up at him, blue eyes bright.

That was his thing with Clarke, he couldn’t say not to her.

And Clarke, at that moment, couldn’t keep herself from drinking him in, his strong jaw, his soft brown eyes, his lips and all those beautiful freckles. Before she could think of the reasons why it was wrong, or why she couldn’t do it, before she could stop herself, Clarke darted forward and pressed her cold lips to Bellamy’s.

He froze beneath her.

She pulled back in panic.

“I-uh, fuck Bellamy – I – ” she stuttered.

He silenced her with a kiss.

She sighed into his mouth. Bellamy threaded his fingers through her wet hair, cradling her head and face in his hands, exploring her lips. The kiss was soft and slow until his tongue darted out, mapping her bottom lip. She gasped then whimpered, and it was the most beautiful sound. Bellamy almost died, feeling her hips grinding against his pants. He groaned, wrapped her into his arms and rolled them until he was hovering over her. Clarke hands were moving frantically over his body, tracing every bit of skin she could reach. She smiled into their kiss because finally, she was getting what she needed.

Bellamy pulled back and her smile vanished.

“We can’t – We shouldn’t” he said, looking away. Clarke felt as though she’d been thrown in the creek again.

“You have got to be kidding me,” she said, her voice so coarse it hurt his ears.

“This isn’t…” he whispered, “We’re…”

“If you say ‘just friends’ Bellamy, I’m gonna punch you in the face,” She muttered, with a murderous glint in her eyes.

Bellamy swallowed and shuddered above her, keeping his gaze away from her face. He closed her eyes with a pained expression.

“Clarke…”he whispered.

“Hey, hey” she whispered, cupping his face in her hands and forcing him to meet her eyes. “It’s always been you and me, hasn’t it? Fuck all the rest.”

And that was it. He gave in, wholly, completely. Bellamy knew he belonged to Clarke, but hearing her said so broke all the barriers he’d been building. He kissed her hard, almost furiously, saying with his kiss what he could not say with his words. She responded with the same passion, the same fierce movements. Her fingers ran through his hairs, scrapping his scalp, making shivers run down his spine. He grabbed her hips, his tan fingers digging into her pale skin. She ground up against him, his cock hardening against her naked belly.

“ _fuck_ ” she gasped. “Bellamy – ”

The possessive beast inside him roared, demanding him to mark her, to make her his. Bellamy wanted to hear her say his name again, a million times more – he was hers and only hers.

Bellamy trialed fluttering kisses down her jaw and neck. She panted, bucking her hips and the feel of his skin on hers. His tongue darted out, licking and sucking harsh patterns against tender skin, desperate to mark her up. She released a pained moan and fisted his shirt, pulling him to her mouth again.

“You’re wearing too much clothes,” She said, tugging anxiously at his shirt. “Take this off,”

Bellamy grinned, his heart was about to burst out of his chest. She was beautiful and feisty, full of life. She’d probably never known what she meant to him. He would do whatever the hell she wanted.

 He sat up and pulled his shirt over his head, the way guys do. Clarke sat upright, too fast for someone who almost died of hypothermia, but not as fast as she wanted. Her hands darted forward, tracing the newly exposed skin. She eagerly ran her hands over his torso, drawing him with her fingers, reveling in the soft feeling of his skin. She traced every muscle, stopping at the button of his pants.

Clarke licked her lips and looked up at him, uncertain. Bellamy covered her hands with his.

“We can stop, if that’s what you want,” He said softly.

Little did she know he would wait forever.

“No,” she said, defiant. “I don’t wanna stop.”

He smiled at her stubbornness and kissed her hard. She wrapped her arms around his neck and smiled into the kiss.

“You’re still too dressed,” she breathed against his mouth.

He chuckled and fumbled with his pants, pulling them down while kissing her. Her hand cupped him through his boxers and he breathed harshly, her fingers tentatively stroking him, making him pant against her neck.

His hands trailed down her back, looking for something to hold onto. His fingers dug into the flesh of her ass, hugging her closer.

“ _Fuck_ ” he breathed into her neck.

His moans and half-whispered words made her hungry and the ache between her legs was almost unbearable.

Bellamy took her hands, finger s intertwined, pressing her gently into the blankets. He kissed down her neck again, until he reached her breasts, tongue licking a pebbled nipple. She gasped and tightened her fingers between his. Bellamy’s tongue flitted across her sensitive flesh, sucking, licking, kissing as her panting became more and more uneven.  He kissed his way across her chest, paying attention to every little bit of skin. Every lick and every nip sent bolts of lust straight to her core and she whined, hips bucking against his thigh, desperate to be touched there.

“ _Please,_ ” she whimpered, begging for something she didn’t know how to describe.

He kissed her again, untangling one hand to reach between her parted legs. She made a sharp sound against his neck, burying her face as he traced her sex softly, gently.

She was perfect, the most beautiful thing. She was soft, warm, inviting. Her hips moved against him with every touch of his fingers. She wasn’t going to last much. He smiled against her neck, wondering how many times he could make her come. He slipped a single finger inside her, she was wet and relaxed with arousal, ready for him.

But not so soon. He wanted to set her loose first, he wanted to give her everything before she gave him something back. He curled his finger inside her, searching for that bundle of nerves. He knew he’d find it when she released a chocked moan and bucked her hips against his hand. He grinned, stroking that secret place, his thumb rubbing circles against her clit, he kept on doing it until her body spammed, until her moans turned into a cry, until she screamed his name, undone.

 _She came like a goddess,_ he thought.

Before she could catch her breath, he kissed her deeply, taking her softly from her high. Her cheeks were rosy and her eyes were bright with ecstasy.

Clarke rolled them over and straddled his hips. She could feel his hard length through his boxers, pressing wantonly to her cunt. She groaned, rubbing herself against him.

“fuck, Clarke,” he panted, hips snapping up to meet with hers.

She grinned and scooted don, pulling down his boxers. His cock jutted out of its own accord, hard and proud. It was magnificent. She couldn’t help but touch it, unbearably turned on by this sight. She felt possessive, aware of the effect she had on him. She grabbed him and stroked him several times, reveling in the sound he was making. He reached out and stopped her.

“If you keep doing that, it’ll be over before we want it to be.”

She grinned again and he surged up, wrapping her in his embrace and kissing that cocky grin off her face.

Without interrupting the kiss she reached down, took his shaft in her hands and guide it between her legs. She was so wet, so hot, so perfect, sinking down on his cock, taking him inch by inch. He rubbed circles on her back, giving her time to get use to him, controlling the urge to thrust up into her perfect, tight heat.

He was inside her and it was better than Clarke could’ve ever imagined. She felt an overwhelming sense of fullness, warmth and love.

“ _Bellamy,_ ” she breathed. “Bellamy, I –”

As if sensing what she wanted to say, what she was trying to say. Bellamy broke, bucking his hips up in a slow torturous pace, punching moans and cries out of her. She clutched him tightly, nails scrapping for purchase across his broad shoulders, panting into his neck.

“Fuck me, Bellamy,” she commanded, breathless.

A possessive animal awoke inside of him and he rolled them onto the furs, resting his elbows on either side of her body, looking her in the eyes as he fucked her, her heels digging into his lower back and her hips snapping up to meet his pace. Her blue eyes sparkled and her eyelids fluttered half close as stars started forming inside her, ready to explode.

He reached down with one arm and stroked her clit in a fast pace. He could feel the pressure building behind his spine and he’d be dammed if he came before she did.

Clarke’s eyes widened, a chocked cry forcing its way out her lips and she clung to him, eyes brimmed with love and lust, fingers digging into his back as he consumed her. Her world exploded and she spasmed beneath him, the most beautiful sounds punched from her lungs, her insides convulsing and contracting around him, pulling him into his own climax. He thrust into her one, twice and followed over the edge.

She kissed him hard, taking his face in her hands.

“I love you,” She whispered, with a shadow of fear in her eyes. As if she were worried he might not love her back.

“I love you,” He echoed, caressing her face the way he’d done a thousand times, saying it with words for the first time.

Because it’d never been a question.

He’d been hers from the start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Let's cry together about the finale](http://www.bellarkeaddict.tumblr.com)

**Author's Note:**

> thank you, you can follow me on my [tumblr](http://www.bellarkeaddict.tumblr.com)


End file.
